As they went along, Kerrigan, with a wealth of technical phrases, explained the peculiarities of the document. A great part of the explanation was Greek to McGonagle; but Larry grasped the points of the matter, and by the time Kerrigan had finished, his face was lighted with suppressed excitement. They paused before the door of the Aurora Borealis Club in the midst of a rapid debate between the two latter gentlemen; finally Larry said:
“Then youse’ll keep it quiet for a while?”
“Only until to-morrow afternoon,” said Kerrigan, decisively. “You’ll have to work quick.”
After the attorney left them, Goose turned to his friend, and inquired bewilderingly:
“Say, Murphy, put me next, will youse. What kind o’ a graft have youse got? Hit it out, quick!”
Larry leaned against the frame of Riley’s show window and laughed exultantly; McGonagle frowned vexedly at his mirth, snapping his fingers with impatience.
“Say!” exclaimed the latter, as Larry continued to laugh, “youse must be crazy. What’s the matter, anyhow?”
Larry smothered his laughing, and took Goose rapturously by the lapel of his coat, proceeding to put into words the idea which he had conceived while Kerrigan was speaking. When he had finished, Goose tore himself away and executed a mad acrobatic dance about the sidewalk, and wound it up by throwing his arms about Larry and hugging him until his ribs cracked.
“It’s the slickest t’ing I ever run against,” declared he, with enthusiasm. “I always said you was foxy, Murphy; and if youse work this right, ye kin take the front seat, and I’ll never say a word!”
After a few moments’ consultation they separated and Larry made his way toward O’Hara’s. The freight engines, as usual, were coughing up and down the tracks, hissing and straining at their trailing loads. O’Hara was repairing the fire brick in an old stove outside; his sleeves were turned up and he was soot to the elbows.